


Entirely Full and Yet Still Wanting

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (Show) [11]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Come Inflation, M/M, Prompt Fill, The Witcher Kink Meme, This is the filthiest porn I've ever written, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22776709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Prompt: Just anything with Geralt filling Jaskier up with his come. Preferably with Jaskier eventually being very uncomfortable with the amount.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher (Show) [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624300
Comments: 24
Kudos: 1281
Collections: Witcher Kink Meme (Dreamwidth)





	Entirely Full and Yet Still Wanting

**Author's Note:**

> Witcher Kink Meme Prompts: [Geralt filling Jaskier up with his come](https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=60589#cmt60589) and [Witcher Staminia](https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=70829)

They’d rented a room in a brothel. One of the ones where you could take your own whore - or in this case, poet - instead of paying for one of the ones in house. It meant they’d have a bed to lay in, but also plenty of oils and (unlike in an inn) no one to complain when things got loud.

* * *

_“How many times can you orgasm in one night?” Jaskier had asked, his eyes glittering. Geralt had said something about Witcher Stamina - referring to fighting, not fucking, but the poet’s mind was usually in the gutter - and he’d found the words spilling from his mouth with no provocation._

_Geralt had just laughed and said, “I’ve never thought about that.”_

* * *

“What time is it?” Jaskier asked sleepily. He was sprawled on his stomach, arms crossed under a pillow, head turned to one side. It felt like hours since he’d given up on rutting into the blanket, too exhausted to do anything but lay still and let Geralt use him. Which was exactly what he’d wanted, of course.

“It’s nearing two in the morning,” Geralt replied, rubbing Jaskier’s shoulder. “Are you-”

“Oh I’m fine,” he mumbled. “How many?”

“Five.”

“Damn. You lucky son of a bitch.”

* * *

_“No,” Geralt had said when he’d first suggested it. “I’d keep going for hours after you were done.”_

_“You talk as though that’s not incredibly arousing, Geralt.” The poet had folded his arms over his chest. “And I know you, you whoreson, you’d stop if it became too much, so what’s the harm?”_

* * *

_What’s the harm indeed?_ Jaskier wouldn’t say that he was regretting what he’d requested from Geralt - quite the opposite, in fact, it was glorious - but it was starting to get uncomfortable. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, Geralt was like clockwork in pouring more oil over him, but the discomfort was still there.

Anyone would have been sore after hours of being thrust into.

After his next orgasm - he’d pressed his lips to Jaskier’s ear and murmured, “six,” with a chuckle - he pulled the poet into his lap. Dandelion leaned back against his chest, letting Geralt’s arms wrap around his stomach as he thrust into his pliant body.

* * *

_“I’ll be yours until dawn,” he’d said, while trying to bribe Geralt into giving in. “Yours to do anything you want with.”_

_“Anything?” Geralt had asked with amusement._

_“Anything,” he’d promised. The Witcher was the only lover he would ever give that promise to, since he knew it came with caveats. Because even if he’d promised Geralt anything, he could stop him at any time. That was the trust he had in the man._

* * *

He was starting to feel extremely full. He always felt full with Geralt - the Witcher’s large cock was one of the reasons he took him to bed so often - but it was going beyond what he was used to. The sheer amount of cum that Geralt had pumped inside him had to be insane.

It felt as though it had bypassed his colon and was traveling all the way to his intestines and stomach. Vaguely he wondered if that was possible, and if it would start leaking out through his mouth and nose before Geralt was finished. “Can semen come out through your mouth?” he babbled.

Geralt stopped. “What?”

Realizing the question had come out all wrong he shook his head. “Nev- never mind. Keep going.”

The Witcher seemed uncertain until Jaskier gave a half-hearted thrust against him, then he resumed where he’d left off.

* * *

By the time Geralt reached his seventh orgasm, Jaskier was ready to cry. He’d been turned around - somehow without ever having Geralt’s cock taken out of him - so their stomachs were pressed together and he could lay his chin on Geralt’s shoulder.

Each thrust hurt so much, but fuck, he wanted _more_. Even if Jaskier had reached his own limit - Geralt had managed to wring three full orgasms and what felt like several small climaxes from him - he still found pleasure in the act.

* * *

By the eighth, he was crying. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks and he shook in Geralt’s arms, but when the Witcher had said he was going to stop, he’d swatted him, and begged for more.

If it were anyone but Geralt, he would be thoroughly humiliated from begging for more when he was already about to rupture from the amount of cum inside him. As it was, it was only a bit humiliating, something that wasn’t helped when Geralt had laughed and laid Jaskier out on his back before resuming his thrusting.

* * *

Geralt’s ninth orgasm he was certain would kill him.

He sobbed openly and loudly, writhing in the Witcher’s grip, trying to break away so he could get off Geralt’s cock and let his body expel some of the semen he’d been filled with.

But Geralt kept a strong grip on him, pressing lips against his temple. “One more, _lark_ ,” he murmured. “You can take one more, can’t you? To get to ten?”

“No,” Jaskier sobbed, but he didn’t think he meant it, since his hands were wrapping around Geralt’s waist to pull the Witcher closer. And damn, reaching ten sounded insane, but also - Jaskier would be lying if he said it wasn’t what he wanted.

“Ten,” he sobbed in agreement.

Each thrust felt like the crack of a whip inside him, and with his body already full of cum and oil, he felt waterlogged and imagined himself sloshing around. But even with all that, he was vaguely aware that he was growing hard again.

“F-fuck,” he moaned as Geralt grabbed his cock, gently rubbing his hand over it. Ever the considerate lover, Geralt brought him to orgasm first, and when he did, his body clenched, making the Witcher grunt, then fill him once again with his cum. 

“Let me go,” he begged, but Geralt didn’t move, still pressed inside him, even if he wasn’t erect. “G- geralt-”

“No,” growled the Witcher, sounding almost playful. “You wanted this, Jaskier,” he said, rubbing his hands down Jaskier’s swollen stomach, ignoring the bard’s sniffles. “Remember?”

“No,” he lied. Then, “P-please Geralt. It-it’s too much. Too full. Too- too much,” he begged.

Finally, Geralt said, “You said you were mine until dawn.”

“Nooooooo,” Jaskier whined. “I _can’t_.”

“You _can_ ,” Geralt promised. His voice was firm, but there was a gentle undercurrent, and he ruffled Jaskier’s hair as he rolled onto his back, bringing the poet to lay on top of him. “It shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

Jaskier whined but laid down obediently, stretching out on top of Geralt, even if laying on his stomach hurt while he was still overfull. Even with Geralt’s cock inside him, acting as a plug, he could tell he was still leaking cum and oil, leaving a sticky and gross feeling between his legs. But that feeling was forgotten as Geralt rubbed his back and shoulders, tracing his spine and ribs.

“Perhaps I should take you to a whorehouse,” he mused. “One of the progressive ones with male whores. How many could you take?”

“Mercy,” he moaned, hoping Geralt couldn’t smell the arousal wafting off him. 

“If I paid them well enough, they wouldn’t stop when you begged for mercy,” pointed out Geralt, sounding rather smug.

“I _hate_ you.”

“No, you don’t.”

* * *

He was limp by the time sunlight began to filter into the room, but it still brought a sob of relief. Geralt rolled him onto his back again, still inside him, then lifted his hips, placing a fresh towel under him. Jaskier almost laughed at the idea that he was trying to keep the sheets clean.

When Geralt finally pulled out he sobbed in relief.

Then a hand pressed on his stomach, and he moaned and erupted, semen and oil pouring from his ass in the most humiliating show he could imagine.

“I’m never going to be clean again,” he sobbed.

“I’ll call for a bath,” Geralt said with a chuckle.


End file.
